louis gander, 7 january 2013
(A true story poem from the summer of 1934
as told to me by my mother, Ruth)
I hope you enjoy "Life Was..."
Worked like a mule, when not in school, below the scorching sun.
I couldn't treat my calloused feet. My work was never done.
Near idle plows, I milked the cows. A barn, we didn't have -
but under stars, the land was ours and where our cows would calve.
With weary hands I filled the cans. Their tails they would flick -
and sting my eyes while swatting flies. Then bucket, they would kick.
Two hours flat, was done with that, from my familiar stool.
The cows backed off their drinking trough where I put milk to cool.
The morning after, I worked faster, hitching up the team.
One called Nancy, the other Topsy - hauled our milk and cream.
Those two old nags had swayback sags. They were a stubborn lot.
I must confess, they lacked finesse. Race horses, they were not.
The wagon bad, but all we had, so up my brother climbed.
The little whelp was not much help, but "Giddy-up!" he chimed.
As we would sing, the cans would cling the four miles into town.
Population: Twenty seven - but that's if we're around.
With morning sun, that work was done - but now, another day.
We'd fertilize while bread would rise and maybe bail some hay.
I always worked - and never shirked - my duties. I was nine.
But God gave strength to me at length - and life was truly fine.
©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
-------
Gert Strydom, 7 january 2013
There are times when a new tomorrow is almost touchable,
when the sorrow, pain and heartache of yesterday disappears,
when people feel as if every new day holds something special,
when a person again wants to trust like a child
and does know that God holds everything in His hand
when there is something joyous in the sunshine
and nature in the garden rejoices with secret knowledge
and there are moments like now
where your presence brings joy,
where I know how absolutely precious
our love, your company and friendship
and every moment can be, where I want to save it,
want to nurture it as if I can save it up
when our hearts both sing of joy,
when the sun glitters outside on drops of dew
when days stretch out and I am aware of your beauty,
when times become as they are meant to be
and are without any fear
and nothing is more important than the being together,
when I read your own feelings in your eyes,
when nothing can curtail our feelings
when every moment is full of happiness and is true
and just like this I want the rest of the year to be,
as if it’s lying right against my fingertips like you.
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 7 january 2013
She sat up late to contemplate, what life would be like with all the strife
Problems here, Problems there-some larger than others, but still everywhere
It seems that her time has taken its toll;but she's still fighting to reach her goal
To be the woman she wants to be, with all her wealth in her memory
For sometimes dollars aren't worth a dime
It's what she had stored for all her time
She spent looking back over the years of lost and found and planted her feet on solid ground
It's not easy going down memory lane,and re-hashing heartache all over again
But she stayed in time with herself-one on one; until her inventory was done
She forgot about the bad and kept the best;threw away the garbage and kept the rest
Put X's on some boxes and closed those doors;she'd already been down those roads before
Then she smiled and let it all go.......
On a dusty road in Tiajuana, Mexico
Satish Verma, 7 january 2013
Do not go like a rose,
stay like poinsettia.
Now as a brutal encounter
holy color will descend.
Polygonal wound was too proud
to bleed on the street.
The scarlet morning will bring
night’s blood.
And mystery of love between
outcasts will never smell the hate.
Insane discretion wraps a baby
of a cloud to argue for parents.
Questions are raw like sea
rocks under the hoofs of a
whiny horse. I had found you
sitting in a graveyard.
Satish Verma
Geetima Baruah Sarma, 6 january 2013
Nature embellishes with
The advent of autumn,
The blooming of sewali,
The swaying of kohuwa,
To herald Divine Mother,
Who alights with her children,
For an annual sojourn,
Bedecked in ornaments,
Equipped with weapons,
To represent
Elimination of evil
And symbolize
Victory of the virtuous.
Her earthly sojourn
Delights every worshipper,
Enthralls the youngsters
And elderly equally,
To the rhythm of dhak,
To the sound of uruli,
To the illuminated mandap,
To the instant jalebi.
Her sojourn ends
On the tenth day
Of the moon's phase
And she proceeds
Towards the river
With divine grace,
Along with the crowd
Who follows her
With utmost reverence.
[Published in the e-magazine 'Enajori' in October 2011 issue]
Satish Verma, 6 january 2013
You wanted to live
inside a shell
and step outside, in
a bowl of habits, sometimes,
nudging accumulated sins
to offset the aftershocks.
Tsunami is here to stay.
The crowd was swelling
lured by candles on the sea.
Each candle for one living grave
carried by each person on the head,
for the raging waves of life.
In one minute you will become a shadow
of long legs.
Satish Verma
Ye Caterpillar, 6 january 2013
HALLO WORLD-BALL
Feathery old static fluff-ball
World with its upside down Russias
All over the place-
Hallo again I say to thee
world scatter-wing a day gone turned
a worldly spin on things, a time
World-ball, I remember you
I remember when I painted your portrait
Yes, I know you.
Clattering to the ground are
ladles, screens, tunnels, an entrance-way
to other times, afternoons,
a camp a cave a jittney-ride a spin
You have so much to offer-
You immensely and unimaginably
rich and diverse world
that is in fact a conglomerate
ball composed of many a world
squashed together
on the surface of one ball-
World-realm-shadow-ball-
Thought-made ball-
Ball dappled with discarded
Dreams of the dear dead and gone ones-
Of many times, a World
of many situations and perspectives
A World
Of so many feelings, thoughts, memories
and sense impressions of dust-like
entities,
A World-
So to gather up everything that
ever happened in the World
and hold it up to the light
and so to hallo the World
step away and look cleanly at it
Because you know; what is a World?
Is it one now I'm looking at it aren't I?
Is it this whale-frothing sea of drops
or this stone-mantled continental swoop
these breezy air-realms sunny afternoons
going shopping in town or hurtling cyclones
around the Aleutians under the auraura borealis
the sand in a fly's eye in Arabian hubub
bouncing back the glint of light
from mineral silicone frost sliding glimmer-
In a dirigible's rib-cage telegraphic
morse signals electro-magnetic
kinetic communique - a scene yes
but not the only because over
here you have
look, another glistening
pallette of shimmering
viridian hues-
so puff, Old World
And gleeful spin,
Don't damp your imagination
and get done in-
Moons to your moods they cling
Eyes closed
Mind's eye open-
Bubbling street stations
and there's the department
of complaints
In a street like this town
you have everything
and it's all going down-
Lemon-horns blow stawberry licks
and slippery drums pour stacks
rattle
Fresh and green slew plumes of pine
and gliding fish brined bone-strong
water-gone gads-
witness the manta
sea-square strangeness
to the power of three-
Light split into beams
blaring on golden morning wall
early white gold light
young light lucid-
World barely just held together
by cumbersome pins and
antiquated and outmoded systems
of pseudocohesion and psychodrama-
World enmeshed in myth
World on the back of a fish
and frisson of fish-net prophets
melt the ice of eye-sockets
glossy glaze and gaze through glass
at last glossing the fog with
crystal vision-
World aflash with exploding Humanity
World writhing in chemical mysteries
World flung hung religiously in space
as though in a glass case on display
as if created by atom-storm-wind
in the nostril of clustering horse-god
in x-ray lightning shattered-
Living world,
into which the breath of all the dreams
of people's chain of ages whispers
and ripples-
World which all look upon and think
You are mine-
Gadfly World, teasing out illusions
home of distorted ideas, home-world
of the greedy cruel and indifferent
world well-submerged in down-mentality
world almost subjugated by mal
world toxic made not well by man
Old nature fighting back-
World to the core hot, spinning
in space like the Great Phonograph
of legend-
Honour to the World of everything
plastic bags and all
But mostly to the myriad creatures
the glittering sparks of beings
the mass of zillions of hearty ghosts
smiling children of ephemera
crude karmic ping-pongs
kind souls, kindred folk, kith,
and atom wind sea-square strangeness-
Ye Caterpillar, 6 january 2013
Jacaranda jaculus - jaculus Caractacus
Caraway imaculus.
Hacking haikus home from traveling the page.
Merimac memory-babe, clacking keys
on your portable machine
writing the epic paperback roadflick
lickin' up ink, highways, lush-nights
and scenes of your time, your '50's
w e s t e r n d r e a m i n g
Lost, mocked, most honoured scribe
scribbling in endless notebooks
with your
c h e a p w i n e
sharing-it-with-anybody -
YOU didn't mind -
you knew we all sprung from the same meatwheel,
the same karmic revolving circus -
From Mary's drunken Buddha-Heart.
In felaheen earth
in tents
in Mexico
in automobiles
in neon city night-lights
in sagebrush coyote deserts
in doldrum drinking blues
in ships of the oily dark sea
loving the tragic world
loving the magic words - keys clack
ribbon spins and whirls
unravelling on your cheap solitary desk
tales of ten thousand miles
to bless the dream-soaked youth
an' flying souls to the sun
Alicja Kuberska, 5 january 2013
I would like to know
each day,
its colors and tastes
as if it were my first day
and the last as well.
I do not want to stay
in the sphere of silence.
I want to change the
minutes into notes.
The days were composed
like symphonies.
The nights played the nocturnes
Alex Perez, 5 january 2013
With love and hate and no fate for my dreams to lead the way I hope for peace of mind and memories of a better time like when I was little cause life is like a riddle that’s to hard for me to understand, I’m reaching out for Gods hand; please catch me… snatch me from out the air cause I’m falling… all the while calling out for you… “God Hear My Voice“.
So deep into a visual fixation of a nightmare… I look unto you; towards the sky, I cry and before I die; please release me from my own demons who tear apart my soul… and torment me… furthermore prevent me from doing right; I lose sight of what I love; I need help from above… “God Hear My Voice”.
My future doesn’t look clear cause I fear for my present-I’m just a peasant who’s alone in the dark with hurt in my heart… so far apart from you… with no clue on how to connect; except through this choice, I speak… “God Hear My Voice”
Your presence still lingers from my head to the tip of my fingers, I write, you read, I speak, you listen but I’m missing the WORD of which that is yours; please open the doors and let me in, take me from this life of sin… “God Hear My Voice”.
Come fix me because I’m broken, yes your word was spoken; out in the open; yet there I was covering my ears and over the years… like spears I was cut deep in my mind… now time has brought me to this… “God Hear My Voice”
I need an angel… Because from this angle; heaven looks so far away; don’t want to stay in this world without you… “Please God Hear My Voice”
I Alex Speak to you lord needing your guidance; I say god, “hear my voice”, but I know first I must hear yours. Speak Lord because there isn’t a time that I’m listening more than I am now. I give you my heart, my mind, my dreams, my pen, my pad. I say Take me lord… take me away.
Until that day… I am here lord.
Waiting, hoping, speaking… “GOD Hear My Voice.”
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